Peapod Chronicles

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle wiggle

2008-04-14T16:13:00.002-04:00

How you can tell you are madly in love with your son:

5.) In the middle of a nice (i.e., expensive, fancy, gourmet) restaurant, you start waltzing with him and singing in his ear, oblivious to the fact that you are in a PUBLIC PLACE. When you realize that you are in a PUBLIC PLACE, you throw your head back in laughter and dance even more.

4.) When he wakes up in the morning, you look forward to smelling his sweaty feet and his sweet-sour morning breath. Really. He'll be talking about this in therapy later, but who cares?

3.) You only have eyes for him. When you see other people with their babies, who then come up to you to tell you how cute your son is, you don't respond with a polite "Oh, you have a beautiful baby too!" You feel that would be lying. Because you don't think anyone else could be as cute as Sammy. (This doesn't apply to friends' babies. They are in a totally different category, by the way. All your babies are very very cute and beautiful. Just not as cute as Sam. Sorry.)

2.) In the middle of a cafe or diner, you get up and start dancing down the aisle with your baby. You think that other people think this is a normal part of every day life and that they MUST be enjoying watching Sam dance too. How could they not??)

1.) After dropping him off at daycare, where you have allowed others to bask in his presence, you realize that you are singing at the top of your voice, bopping your head, and dancing. Sam is not with you. You are ALL ALONE and doing this by choice. You are singing along to the Wiggle song and thinking of Sammy. Once you realize this, you press the skip button to play Jumping Judy. It's catchier. Click here if you want to learn the songs: http://www.musictogether.com/

Hello....I'm back....is there anyone out there?

2007-12-16T21:40:00.000-05:00

So, um, hi. It's been a while. Just a few updates: the peapod house was completely turned upside-down, inside-out on June 14, 2008 at about 12:17 am when little baby peapod arrived. After all the hullabaloo, the furious knitting, the bedrest, the labor (oh lordy, the labor....24 hours long, 4 1/2 hours of pushing later...), baby boy Sam is finally here. He's kept us busy (you notice how the feet aren't touching the ground? notice how the camera's out of focus? he's on the move...got places to go...).

The peapod family is on a new adventure and Sam is the leader. So far, there have been lessons in sleep deprivation, anxiety, patience, guilt, pure joy, love, and pain. It's been busy. But I'm glad to be back.

I'm back. Yes, I'm back.

2007-06-11T16:09:00.001-04:00

Hey ma, look what I did!

2007-05-07T22:50:00.000-04:00

Obsession. That's what this is. Obsession, obsession, obsession. Bad Mama Pea. Bad, bad.

I have come to realize, of late, that I am a dilettante hobbier. When I first started knitting, I read Debbie Stoller's fantastic book, Stitch and Bitch. It was knitting for the younger, hipper crowd, filled with healthy doses of irony, useful tips for beginning and intermediate knitters, and patterns that your grandma never made, or which the '80's never ruined. No puckered sweater sleeves here. (Of course, now that's all the rage...but that's for another time.) In one of her chapters, Debbie Stoller described different types of knitters. One of them was the "dilettante knitter." This is the knitter who buys all the expensive yarn, thinks of ways he or she can make the GREATEST sweater or project with it, starts multiple projects, and then, just.....peters off.....When I read this, I got a sinking feeling in my stomach, which I promptly ignored. I figured I was hungry and my stomach was growling. I told myself, "NO! Of course you're not a dilettante knitter! You finish everything you start. Don't think about those years of piano lessons where you learned exactly half of each and every piece good old Mrs. Rouse tried to teach you. Don't think about learning exactly half of the theme to Voltron and then getting bored. You are OK." My stomach settled. I moved on.

Three years later. I am almost finished with Sammy's sweaters, just about THERE with his teddy bear. And, what do I do? I move on to another obsession. Have any of you ever done container gardens????!!!!! I am in love!!!! I must have more pots, more soil, more plants! I have to hold myself back from going to the garden store. I give plants moist, warm looks wanting them to visit my patio. I think the garden store man is a GOD. And, oh, I have dreams, I have fantasies of having a lush patio, with many flowers, vines, herbs. At night, I fantasize about how many different types of plants I can fit into one container for the best "effect." I fall asleep thinking about zones, deadheading, cultivars, wood versus terracotta containers, good and bad bugs, pine chip nuggets. I think about trying to plant in strawberry pots because they are weird looking. Stop me before I hurt myself. Sammy needs his cotton sweater, not a pot of hydrangeas!

So, the picture above is my first attempt at container gardening. The containers I got were rather large. They now decorate my once barren patio. A few hours after I finished with them, I saw the first bee visit the flowers and tears almost dropped from my eyes.

Why?

2007-05-04T22:56:00.000-04:00

So, we've come a very long way in terms of fresh, young-looking maternity wear. I've been very happy with this. I think most women appreciate being able to show off their beautiful pregnant selves. Now that the pregnancy-train is slowly but surely coming to its final stop, I am learning about the wonders of nursing. Specifically, I am learning about the HORRORS of nursing attire. Once women have their babies, are they supposed to fade graciously into the background?

Here are (more) of my questions. Why are all nursing clothes dumpy? Is there a conspiracy? Is this supposed to help me transition into a designated "role," with dumpiness underlined? Specifically, are cross-over, tie on the side, 3/4 sleeve-length tops the ONLY design available to nursing women? Can't someone come up with some variety? This is depressing.

There is one site that gives me hope. Count it -- one.

That is all.

Mad dash

2007-05-04T10:55:00.000-04:00

What is that????

Well, it's my belly. Or rather, it's Sammy, with what used to be just my body. He's really taken over. I think that my stomach is the size of a mustard grain, and I don't even know how where my intestines fit into the whole thing, at this point. This is probably one of the only times I'll post anything close to a picture of myself on my blog (you know enough about me already...you don't need to see any more...plus, and I'm only thinking of myself here, I think it would be weird for me to know that some folks I don't even know will know what I look like, AND know certain facts like how difficult it is for me to put underwear on without hurting myself. you understand, right?).

I give you this picture to show you how far along in the pregnancy I am, and the MADNESS I have entered into given that there are about six weeks left to this journey, if Sammy is an on-time kind of guy. I think that I've officially entered nesting insanity and all retailers are very happy about it. I've also experienced certain unexpected reactions from people given the prominence of the belly. All of this has led to several thoughts (oooh...I feel a list coming up...):

1.) Someone should market a drug safe for pregnant women to take when they are up late at night with a paypal account in hand. This drug should induce memory loss for passwords related to bank accounts, credit cards, and all things that allow you to pay for material goods. When you are up at 3 or 4am, waiting for that Charley horse that woke you up to relax, waiting for sleep to come, using the internet as a sleep aid, this is something that you will need. What I can tell you, at this point, is that I will soon have many packages at my doorstep filled with cloth diapers, nursing clothes, potty pails, and the like.

2.) Calling all fetishists. Okay, I may be naive and maybe I'm making this up, but I never expected to get so much male attention as an about-to-give-birth pregnant lady. By attention, I don't just mean the "let me open the door for you" or "here, why don't you have my seat because you look like you just swallowed two basketballs and might tip over" kind of attention. No. This is the warm kind of look. The moist kind of look. You know. I mean, if anything announces "taken," it is a pregnant belly, right? Very weird, although it's good for the ego when you are feeling like a penguin.

3.) Must finish knitting projects. Well, this is a no-brainer. I have two projects that I have to get done before Sammy arrives. One is a cotton sweater. The other is a giant teddy bear. There's not much to say about these things. I am on a mission to finish. And I will. I have to. I don't know why. I just have to.

4.) Must organize my closet. I don't know why. I bought lots of organizers from The Container Store (again, a 4am purchase) and I just have to organize my closet before Sammy gets here. I must. Really. Don't ask me why. I don't know.

The woman in the dunes (with apologies to Kobo Abe)

2007-04-27T04:16:00.000-04:00

I bet Kobo Abe never thought that he would be in my blog about pregnancy. And yet, it feels so fitting right now. I worked so hard to try to get out of the sand, and after all that, I'm not so sure about this non-bedrest thing. I've realized that being off bedrest has its positives and negatives. The grass is always greener, as they say. I was given the green light to do "normal activity" on Monday. I have since come to the following conclusions.

What is cool about being off bedrest:
1.) Going out. Okay, this is a no-brainer. Of course the best thing about being allowed out of the house is literally going out of the house and going somewhere. Let's see. Since Monday, I have gone out to lunch and dinner, shopped (much to Papa Pea's concern), gone to the yarn store (of course), walked Dora and Milo in the warm spring sun, and visited my local library (I LOVE my library and have missed making trips there so this really was a big deal).
2.) The idea of going out is not a dream but a reality. Seriously, just knowing that I can do what I want goes a long way. I have sat here thinking, "Hm. Wouldn't it be nice to go do ______ or get some _____?" Then, I think, "Well, the weekend is coming and maybe I can go there for an outing." Then, I stop. Think. My heart stops as I realize, "Oh! I can do that now! I can do it anytime!"
3.) Doing work around the house and helping Papa Pea. It's been hard to be so immobile. I'm a bit of a neat freak, and I've learned much in the ways of letting go within these last few weeks. However, I'm ready to be a bit more anal and type-A again. It's also nice to be able to do some work that Papa Pea has taken over since I've been out of commission. Or maybe I just want to do everything my way rather than have him do it his way (there's that Type-A again). Who knows.

What is not so cool about being off bedrest:
1.) A good excuse to NOT DO ANYTHING. I know, I railed against this in the past. Like I said, the grass is always greener. It's nice to know you can't have responsibilities because it might be harmful and dangerous. There's nothing like the fear of endangering one's child and self to make one just lie there and relax. Now, I actually have to make a choice.
2.) The idea of going out is sometimes better than the real thing. During bedrest, I could fantasize about walking in the sun-dappled day, wearing maternity clothes that fit and show me off in the best way. People were smiling and happy. I felt lithe and fit. Life was shiny. In reality, when the sun is shining, it means that I am hot and uncomfortable. My pants feel like they are falling off because my belly has taken on huge dimensions. When I sit down, my underwear slides down my enormous butt. I waddle. Lithe is not in my vocabulary.
3.) Thinking that I can do more than I can. Okay, so I'm eight months pregnant. I should know that I can't really think about HIKING right now. However, my brain still thinks that I am less pregnant than I am -- like, as pregnant as I was before I went on bedrest. What was that -- 5 months pregnant? The other day, I almost confirmed plans with someone to go hiking up to a vista and back down. I only realized that I could not do this when I tried to bend down to pick up a pen and found that my belly prevented me from going further than a 30-degree angle.

And...I have a confession to make. I'm exhausted. I did too much this week. Now, I have to decide to stay home, put my feet up, rest. I'm putting myself on bedrest. Back to the good old sand pit.

Out the door!

2007-04-23T18:16:00.000-04:00

Guess what? I'm off bedrest and I'm going out! See you later!

Yawn

2007-04-20T10:36:00.000-04:00

It's been a sleepy, sleepy week here at Peapod central. There's 8 weeks left before Peapod delivery and the third-trimester sleepies have hit me in a big way. This has been difficult, especially when the nesting instinct is hitting me at the same time. So, I wake up in the mornings thinking, "Okay! Today I'm going to start writing THAT PAPER that I'm supposed to write to move forward in my career (remember what that is?). I'll do the first section and I'll finish it within the 8 weeks that are left over. Go!" To motivate myself even more, I add some guilt and responsibility into the mix, saying, "No more of this lazing around, knitting, watching television, enjoying yourself. Time is running out! You need to finish this thing for Sammy's sake!" I get up. I take a shower. Move downstairs and have breakfast. Breakfast of champions. For those people who finish what they start.

I eat breakfast. I lean back into my bed pillow, feeling the need to recline. Then, the sleepies start to kick in. My muscles start to relax, a strange and deep feeling of exhaustion creeps up from my legs to my belly, my arms, my neck. Then, I pop back up. No! Must do work.

I pick up several books to do research. Taking notes shouldn't take up too much energy, I think. It's just reading and writing. I can put off the writing part until later. It's just a bit of concentration, right? Right.

Oh, concentration. What does that word mean again? Spelling it is hard, I can't focus. My pillow feels SO NICE. It's so soft. I recline back even more. My books slide, fall to the floor. I feel as though I am underwater, being pulled under the waves, tugged, into sleep. Snore.

Today will be different. It is sunny out. That should wake me up. I've brewed a special drink I will only allow myself when I do work, and lit a candle to help the brain cells wake up. I've brought out several books to research. This day will be different. Only, first, I have to post on my blog. It's been ages!

Another finished sweater for little Samuel. This is the Baby Placket pullover, from Joelle Hoverson's Last-Minute Knitted Gifts. If you decide to make it, make sure you read the errata section on her website. I did not find it until I pulled my hair out twice, went to my lys, pulled my hair out again, then did things on my own to try and make it work. This was all for naught. I could have saved myself a lot of shame spirals, negative self-talk, and visions of giving up knitting because I COULDN'T FIGURE OUT A PATTERN and what good am I. My mental health would have been that much healthier if I had simply scrolled down on their website and found the link for the revised pattern with corrections.

I am now working on the Baby Tunic for Sammy from Knitting Pure and Simple.
It's going along swimmingly. I'm really enjoying knitting things in one piece because of the lack of seaming. It feels, somehow, quicker.

Orbit love

2007-04-14T15:27:00.000-04:00

Orbit, I love you. Papa Pea and I took the plunge and bought little Sammy his pimp-ride. This is the Orbit stroller. Pneumatic wheels, one-handed fold, telescoping handles, and a great brown color. Little Orbit was tested and approved by little Jin (see ethnic-looking baby below). It got five out of five stars.

Orbit with the "plush, velvety" car seat. It rotates 360 degrees (hence, the name Orbit, get it?) and is a breeze to take on and off the frame. Orbit, I love you.

Ahhh...the bassinet on its rocker. Rock-a-bye, little Sammy!

the way we live now (a long summary)

2007-04-13T18:18:00.000-04:00

The alarm goes off, if it does, at 6:27am. It's enough time to hit the snooze button, pretend it didn't ring, go back to sleep. Papa Pea does, and exhales as he rolls to the other side, puts the covers up above his head. In the corner of the room, there's a rustling, a shaking, Dora is awake, banging her tail against the bars of the crate. She is happy it is morning. I get up and make sure not to make eye contact with her. It's a carefully orchestrated move. Dora is a morning dog, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her small body quivering with excitement at the thought of being let out. With years of practice and discipline behind me, I ignore her. It would be so easy to give in, but I don't. She continues to quiver.

Papa Pea gets up at the second ring of the alarm, lets out the dogs. He shuffles into the shower, half-asleep. He touches my shoulder. Good morning, as I go back to our room. I am back in bed after realizing that I do not need to get up (this happens every morning), and the bed shakes as Dora and Milo jump on the bed. Dora's nose is cold on my cheek, she runs under the covers and settles in the tiny space between my body pillow and my stomach. Milo nudges in behind me, pushes, pushes, pushes his way under the covers, finds a spot behind my knees. Milo stretches, and as he does my body accommodates his long, spindly legs. Dora growls, and we all move to find our comfortable places. Sammy kicks me, limbs shifting in my belly. Sleep comes easily.

Papa Pea usually calls in the late morning, sometimes it's 10:30, sometimes it's later. And each time he does, I am surprised by the lateness of the morning, and the drowsy slowness that has crept into my life.

Most of the day is spent on the living room couch, which has become my second bed, my home away from home. Unlike the morning, which stretched itself out into hours of sleep, the rest of the day is divided into how many times I need to let people in to help me run this house and those who live in it. The postman, the FedEx man, the housecleaners, the launderers, the dogwalker. At some time before or after these visits, it is time for lunch. Lunch is usually soup, a sandwich. Something light and small. I can't eat much anymore, which frustrates me. My appetite is larger than reality. Sometimes, K. comes over for lunch, and we eat together in the living room. We trade stories, preoccupations. I talk about baby-things, she talks about wedding-things. It is easy conversation. Before we know it, the lunch hour is up and she has to leave. Sammy kicks during lunch, my body moves to accommodate him.

Dora, Milo, and I move around the living room, and settle in our different places, depending on task, depending on time of day. This is our life. My main spot is the sofa. In the morning, I am usually on the right side, the one that allows me to face the television easily, and see the street from my perch. On my right is a television tray, holding necessary objects. Knitting needles, pitcher of water, books, computer, telephone. As the day moves on, I find myself migrating to the left side of the sofa, and as I do, I find myself getting a different perspective on my day, the living room, the dogs. Dora and Milo follow the sun, and they have specific places mapped out on the floor for each of them. Every hour or so, they come to my perch, nudge me with noses, asking to be let up on the couch. I try not to give in (sometimes I don't, but they usually wear me down). Eventually, as the day comes to a close, they move to the end of the living room where their beds lie. Dora takes the bed in front of the French door, positioning herself to face out, ears pricked. She thinks of herself as the protector, and this offers her the perfect vantage point for surveillance. Milo chooses to be warm and comfortable, next to the radiator, under the blanket, deep in his dog bed. Milo sleeps. Sammy kicks. He hiccups. I imagine he stretches.

Papa Pea calls at around 6:40. He waits for his train home, it is nice to hear his voice. I walk around the living room, the kitchen, look out the window. I continue to knit. Dora and Milo eat. I start dinner and wonder where the day has gone, how quickly "resting" can make the day go by. Wonder what have I done today. What is it that I have done today? Sammy kicks hard. He is bigger now and it does not feel comfortable. I sit down. I lie down.

I know he has turned into the driveway by how Dora barks and how her body moves. Her bark is high pitched. She jumps. High. Her ears are back, her tail wags so hard that half her body goes with it like a metronome. She hurries to take a toy between her mouth, ready. And in walks Papa Pea.

"Who wants to go out?"
They jump. They circle him. And out the three of them walk into the night. Last walk of the day.

It is dark out. Papa Pea and I sit on the couch, talking, not talking. Dora and Milo run around the living room, playing, chasing. The living room sounds like a dog run. And then suddenly, they are tired, panting. They pass out. Soon we all go upstairs, ready for bed.

I am ready for bed. I am in bed. And Sammy keeps moving, shifting, kicking. My stomach accommodates, or tries to. I twist and turn, whispering to him that it is time for bed. But he has different ideas. He knows this is the way we live now. But it will not always be so.

grace and love

2007-04-09T00:28:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I wish I could be bundled up like this little darling, all safe and cozy. Who wouldn't want to be wrapped up in fleece, safe from the elements? This weekend I got to meet the newest member in one of my best friends' family. He is lovely and, I must say, I've entertained thoughts of kidnapping him many times since I locked eyes with him (he focuses very well). The only things that have held me back are shreds of morality and ethical thinking, as well as knowing that once he is mine, I will be the one wholly responsible for his poopy, spit-up, and pee. It's been nice to be the one to make him smile and coo, with the option of returning him to his people once things get a little, shall we say, "heated."

The weekend has been very active. Sammy has met many friends I consider family, and as a result, he has been kicking and stretching, and making me generally uncomfortable and unusually jumpy. Today, I thought, "Why yes, we ARE actually pregnant." Soon, I will not be able to give a baby back to his people. We will be his people.

As the weeks go by, and the bedrest has simply become a fact in my life, I've come to appreciate the wonderful graces that bedrest has allowed me to experience. At this moment, I think about the people in my life and how they have wrapped me up in their love, and held me in their gaze. Really, in moments that move us to feelings of fright and anxiety, it is the grace of friendship and family that keep us buffeted from the winds that shake us in unspeakable ways. It's been a weekend of grace and love, and for this I am thankful.

The why's, the how's, and the what's

2007-04-06T05:03:00.000-04:00

Recently, I've started to believe that my brain has turned to mush. My sentences are shorter (not that this is any immediate sign of brain-mushiness, but...). And when I speak to people, my vocabulary is usually filled with an abundance of "that thing" or "the stuff" or "you know what I mean." I also get a funny feeling that I lose concentration in the middle of a conversation. I think it's because I feel like I've already been clear with someone. So, a typical exchange when Papa Pea calls me from work is:
P.P: How are you doing? Feeling okay? Not doing anything you shouldn't be doing?
Me (Reclining on the sofa, watching re-runs of House or Greys Anatomy, thinking about knitting more soakers, wondering who invented knitting, what position Sammy is in and how to get comfortable with it, and why Meredith on Greys Anatomy is really annoying ): I'm okay. Yup. No, I'm not doing too much (note to self: do not say a word about the laundry you just did.). (2 second silence) Oh! I got a call from the guy from, you know, that place you called yesterday to get an estimate on that thing we want? You know.
P.P.: Uh-huh. (Pause.) Ah-um...you mean, Home Depot?
Me: Yes! Yes, Home Depot! (insert satisfied smile here -- he understood!)
(Silence)
P.P.: And?
Me: Right. They said that they'd need to get the measurements from you again. Because, you know, they need to know exactly how big the...um..you know..that thing, I mean the stuff-
P.P.: Christine, use your words. You can do this.
Me (roll of the eyes, sigh. it takes so much effort!): Right.

And on it goes. I'm trying to figure this out. I'd like to be able to communicate better (just so you know, I'm having some trouble writing this post without putting "that thing" or "that stuff" in here, as well as be somewhat entertaining). I think my brain is just filled with too much of multiple things. So, I thought I might spread the wealth in this post, maybe write some of those thoughts down. Maybe this will cure my brain-mushiness! Here goes.
-Why am I waking up at 4am every morning, starving, when I go to bed barely able to breathe from dinner?
-I never realized it was possible to feel both hungry and full at the same time. Now, I know better. Why and how does this happen? Which urge should I follow?
-Why are body pillows so comfortable and what do I do when I have to turn to the other side? Do I bring the pillow with me? How do I do this discreetly at 2am without suffocating the one I love?
-Why are many knitting blogsters hating on non-knitters? If you don't knit, do you know that you are called a "muggle?" I find this annoying and it really turns me off.
-What is steeking and do I need to know about it?
-I want some Kistler Pinot Noir. Now. (This isn't a question, but it takes up a lot of brain space.)
-I want some sushi from Kabuto. Now. (Again, lots of brain space, not a question.)
-Does someone's capacity for gaseousness increase the further along they are in their pregnancy? (This is a purely THEORETICAL question, and not anything that should indicate personal experience.)
-I want to go to Kabuki Springs and sit in the sauna. This is before I drink the Kistler Pinot Noir and eat the sushi from Kabuto with Papa Pea. And wear my regular jeans that look really good on me.

There it is. I hope this thought-vomit worked. I seem to have less of an urge to say "thing." We'll see how long it lasts.

Changes, or how to tell a first-time mama-to-be (part 2)

2007-04-02T22:49:00.000-04:00

Recently, Amazon sent me a notice asking me to review their books. I think this may be because I've become such a good customer. Browse my bookcases and you will notice an interesting phenomenon. The following are the older titles. Notice the focus on fiction, with a smattering of non-fiction. Notice the variety of subject matter.
The Namesake
From Paris to the Moon
A Walk in the Woods, by Bill Bryson
Dog Lovers' Guide to California
Dog Lovers' Guide to New York
Hope and Dread in Psychoanalysis
In Her Shoes
The Inheritance of Loss

As your eyes wander to the newer titles, you see a shift. A change, if you will. The subject matter is increasingly one-dimensional. Some might prematurely diagnose an obsession.
What to expect when you're expecting (well, of course. everyone has this one, right? honestly, though, i'm not that into it.)
Your pregnancy week-by-week
The expectant father
Belly Laughs
The girlfriends' guide to pregnancy
The bedrest book

The diagnosis, however premature, appears to be correct, however. The proof is in the pudding, so they say. And so, here it is, of late:
The birth of a mother
What babies say before they can talk
The womanly art of breastfeeding
The good father
Crawling
The parenting guide to your baby's first year

If you go further into the bookshelf that is buried in my mind, you might notice a wishlist with the following titles:
Raising Cain: Protecting the emotional life of boys
Raising boys

Notice that there is very LITTLE in terms of FICTION in my recent reading list. Notice that there is no variety in the subject matter. Finishing an article in the New Yorker has been difficult because I simply lose interest. Now, this is a really big, big deal. Giving up my pre-bedtime ritual of reading this magazine is the equivalent of giving up food, or breathing air. It is simply NOT DONE.

And yet it is. And yet it is.

Ode to swatching

2007-04-02T11:10:00.000-04:00

O swatch of mine.
Swatch, my friend, my foe, my achilles heel.
Swatch of beauty,
I learn from you,
Master
of gauge.

I am a reformed swatcher and this is my most thorough swatch yet. In the old days, I used to throw swatching away to the dogs. Impatience -- that was my middle name (well, it still is in some..er..okay, many ways). But not now. NOT NOW. I have learned from the valley of oversized or undersized knitting projects about the value of this task. Nowadays, as I swatch, I think about how this little piece of knitted fabric forms the cornerstone of my work. So, with my latest endeavor (need I tell you...it's another diaper soaker from a different pattern), I decided to make the swatch of all swatches. I did a moss stitch on the edging so that it won't roll up on the sides when I measure gauge. I blocked this fabric so I know how the yarn performs when I wash it too. I am, like, such the swatcher now. I can't believe it.

Besides this explosion of swatch-love, knitting was a side-thought this weekend. One of my oldest friends, A., visited from San Francisco. Honestly, knitting can't really compare with hanging out with someone who feels more like a sister, so my knitting needles were given time to rest. One nice thing about bedrest is that I've managed to see lots of friends that I haven't had a chance to get in touch with. The list for "pro-bedrest" gets longer and longer as the weeks go by. A. drove us around town (because I can do that, remember?), stopped off for meals, and caught up on each others' lives. Now, I am back to resting. Papa Pea has mandated today as "total bedrest day" because he thinks I overdid it this weekend. That means to trips out of the house, quality time with the couch and anything within arms reach. Well, okay, maybe I did redefine the "short outings" term a little bit. But I feel fine!

And Sammy is feeling fine. What can I say? More kicks, and...hiccups! I can't believe I can feel him hiccup, but, um, I can!

Here's where it gets a little...odd...

2007-03-30T08:13:00.000-04:00

So, I realized that I haven't posted as often as I usually have since I started this blog. I've been trying to figure this out:
1.) Am I losing interest in posting? (No. However, this concern is valid. I've been known to be obsessively interested in things, only to quickly drop out of the picture after a certain period of time...hence, the scads of unfinished knitting carcasses strewn around my living room). I can safely say that I have not lost interest in posting. This has been a wonderful part of this bedrest blip in life. I've enjoyed writing and communicating with all of you.
2.) Have I run out of things to talk about, or do I have anything to really say to anyone? Hm, well, I don't know. I do sometimes wonder, "Well, that's an interesting thought, but who really needs to know about that and do I really feel like writing about it?" I mean, blogging is a really interesting concept. I'm writing a journal for others to see and read. How much do you really want to know about me? How much do I want you to know about me? And, isn't all of this thinking and writing and publishing a little, well, self-absorbed?
3.) Maybe I'm getting distracted by other happenings. Definite possibility. Knitting wool soakers has become an obsession. I can't stop! I'm onto my third, and I'm feeling like maybe I need to go to a 12-step program. I just downloaded a pattern that has ribbing on the "parts that matter" so that leaking will be minimized. Then there's the weather. Spring is here! I've been sitting outside and enjoying the sun, the spring breeze, and watching Dora and Milo loll about. Then there's the pregnancy. Folks, I'm getting REALLY uncomfortable. I mean, I feel like a little roly-poly weevil. My feet have disappeared from viewing pleasure when I look down. I've started wheezing when I eat too much (which, by the way, is the equivalent of a spoonful of food). This brings me to a question I have for those of you who have gone through this. How do you put underwear on without hurting yourself? If you have the answer, I'd really like to know.

These are the three things that come to mind when I look to see that I've only posted twice this week. Now, onto other things. I promised you that things were going to get a bit odd. Here goes. Check out this picture:

Um, yeah. I did this. I ordered diaper prefolds and a snappi. So, this is my handiwork. In my defense, I wanted to see how this whole snappi/prefold thing works and whether I could handle it. You know, if the baby mimics a stuffed teddy bear every time I have to change him, this diaper changing thing will be a breeze. I feel like I've gone over to the twilight zone diapering a TEDDY BEAR. And, I've done it MULTIPLE TIMES. Don't tell anyone, okay?

What we're willing to pay for

2007-03-27T20:54:00.000-04:00

So, it's been a while since I've posted. Getting the green light to go out for a bit has gotten to my head and made me flaky. However, I have to say that I have not stopped knitting. Here is my first finished soaker. I'm on to the next and loving every minute of it. What was it that they said tended to happen during the third trimester....nesting?? Check.

As D-day approaches, Papa Pea and I have found ourselves gearing up for Sammy's arrival. This has been most evident in the amount of money draining out of our bank accounts on an almost regular basis. This is scary enough. I mean, don't get me wrong. It's not like I've ever been a necessarily thrifty person, or a non-shopper. Shopping runs deep in my veins, especially when it comes to certain kinds of footwear. Call it a family trait. I think what has me a little concerned is the lack of hesitation when we think about what to provide for Sammy. Let me give an example.

Daycare.
Yes, yes, yes, daycare is notoriously expensive. Everyone knows that, right? We thought we knew that until we found out just HOW expensive it is in this little preppy town. One year of daycare for our little babe will cost almost as much as all FIVE YEARS of graduate school. (Okay, so my graduate school is a state university, and I had funding...but still....). One year to pay for other people to change diapers, feed, soothe, and entertain my son so that I can go to work to earn money to pay for his daycare. Did we think twice about daycare? No. Did we think twice about the exclusive daycare we enrolled him in (c'mon, they have custon-made beds and have all sorts of fancy theories about early childhood development and have teachers that have been there for over ten years...)? We sent in the deposit as soon as we found out Sammy was "accepted." Can you say "suckers?"

Diapers.
The list goes on. Cloth diapers (well, of course we had to spend a little extra on the cute-as-a-button lion and puppy diaper covers, right?), yarn for sweaters and diaper soakers (at least for the diaper soakers, it's actually cheaper to make them than to buy them, even using good yarn -- read, NOT Red Heart), and finally....ah, yes...the stroller.

The stroller.
Oh, the stroller. I have a confession to make. My blogging-tardiness is partly due to my recent stroller obsession. I can't stop researching. I am a woman on a mission. I have to find a safe-enough, comfortable-enough, lightweight-enough stroller or else the world as I know it will end. One-handed fold or two-handed? Full recline? What kind of car seat will it take? Pneumatic rubber wheels or plastic? Does it pass all safety requirements? How will it fit into crowded stores and restaurants? How much does it weigh? These questions are vital. This stroller has to be able to protect Sammy from a terrorist attack AND be able to fit through the aisles at the diner for Sunday morning brunches. I've also lately found out that most people buy an average of 3-5 strollers in their babies lives. I will not be one of those people. No. I will choose wisely and learn from their mistakes.

So, I think I've found the PERFECT stroller. It's PERFECT. It will do EVERYTHING. It will keep Sammy happy and safe forever, it will buy me my cafe mocha, and and did I tell you that it also pays bills? The only problem is...the price. But, you see, I'm again in a delusional state. I was initially shocked at the price. But somehow, that feeling went away. I don't know what happened to it. It vanished (well, not completely). And, I started to think. "Well, it's not so bad considering that the car seat comes with it and then becomes part of the stroller. Yes, and then the little carrying pod underneath can become an emergency diaper bag. And then, it can be fully converted into a toddler stroller. And it's designed by engineers from Stanford! It's approved by aero-space engineers! It's gotta be safe and perfect! What's a few hundred dollars more than our limit?" This stroller will last us forever and it will be THE THING to make this whole entire craziness called parenthood and raising a child less of an anxious business, right? I mean, he will be SAFE.

This stroller, this very, very perfect stroller means this: I will never have to buy another stroller again. Just like I never have to buy another pair of shoes again AFTER I get that perfect pair. You know, they're the ones I'm pining away for, that I don't have, that will solve all my problems. Of course.

Baby talk

2007-03-24T10:12:00.000-04:00

Saturday morning, sunny, windows are open. It's almost week 28, which means I am passing through the third trimester door, which means there are 12 more weeks before I meet little Sammy face to face. I guess it is fitting, then, that I have started making my diaper soaker (see above). I've also started to buy Sammy a wardrobe of diapers.

Sammy was kicking, kicking, kicking all night and morning long. This got me to thinking about all the questions I have for him. I think the first one is: Who are you? I mean, really, what are you like? I wonder if you'll be a morning or night person. Will you like spicy foods? Will you like bland foods (I really hope not because it's very hard for me to understand bland food people, but I'm willing to learn. My college roommate, A., really liked bland food.)? You've been pretty active in my belly this whole time. I don't know if you're going to be a mellow little guy. Judging from your parents, I have a funny feeling you might not be. I wonder what we are going to learn from you. I wonder how much poop and pee you are going to make, and what my relationship to your poop and pee will be like. I'm trying to get ready for "blow-outs," because I've heard these are inevitable. Are you going to have a sweet-tooth? Or will salt be your best friend? Can we teach you what you need to know in this world?

12 weeks, 12 weeks, just 12 more weeks.

Diapers on the windowsill.

Mecca

2007-03-22T18:29:00.000-04:00

I couldn't help myself. I had plans to go with K. to the yarn shop on Saturday. Saturday...is...like...soooooooo...far away from...Thursday. So, dear sister-in-law, S., indulged me. She dropped me off and told me to call her when I was done. And then, there I was. Reality is definitely better than the dream, the fantasy. (How many things in life can you say that about?) I was like a pig rolling in some delicious mud. I touched, I smelled, I dreamed. And yes, I bought. The green Rowan DK yarn is for the next baby sweater I will be making. It's a pattern from Interweave Knits called the "Peapod Sweater" (how appropriate and, no David, I did not get the name for this blog from the sweater pattern). The brown yarn is for a diaper "soaker" that I'm going to try to knit. Then, I also got myself a sweet, little pouch for my knitting notions. And last, there are finally buttons for the famed Yellow Sweater.

Oh, yes, I'm going to try doing cloth diapers. Bets are already in place for how long this will last. I'm not promising anything, but I can say that it's been really fun choosing different cloth diapers. There are so many ways to accessorize a baby. The fun factor is definitely high on this one. One thing I've found out about cloth diapers is this. Some types need covers. And this is where knitting comes in. I'm making one of these. Hand-made merino wool diaper covers for my baby's poop and pee. I've gone over the deep end.

Knitting frenzy

2007-03-21T14:41:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, a friend told me that I had been on bedrest for three weeks. Is that all?? It feels like it's been MUCH longer than that. Don't get me wrong. It hasn't been as bad as I thought. I've even had fun and relaxation. When she said that it had been 3 weeks, it got me to start thinking about how weird it will feel to go out and WORK again. Do I even know how to do that anymore? What does that consist of, anyway? Let's not forget that I will be working AND raising a human being. What this line of thinking tells me is this: I guess I've settled into bedrest. Friends and family who have recently visited or called have often asked me, "So, what are you doing for the rest of the day?" This has most often been met with a blank stare from my end. I really have to THINK about what I'm going to be doing. It's not because I don't have anything to do, either. (I was just told by someone that I am the busiest person on bedrest that they've met.) It's just that I've stopped really thinking too far ahead about what I will be "doing." I am on bedrest, therefore I am. I knit, therefore I am. I have to watch Grey's Anatomy every day, therefore I am.

Right now, my activities are mostly centered around knitting, knitting, and more knitting with the occasional hours-long lapse into a Grey's Anatomy frenzy. Sometimes, I do both at the same time (I am very talented.). And then, sometimes, I actually do other things like pay bills, read books, post on blogs, play with the doggies. But, it always comes back to knitting. My hands just need something to do these days. ALL the time. I can't seem to get enough of the feeling of fiber passing through my hands. What you see above is the beginning of the third panel of the cotton blanket I am making for Sammy's room. It is a sampler blanket from a fellow knitter-friend, with five panels eventually crocheted together. Each panel consists of six squares stitched up in various ways. This current square uses the popcorn stitch, which is new to me. I can't say that I'm having fun making it because it is SO tedious. However, I do like the look of it once I've finished a pattern repeat.

KNITTING WALK OF SHAME:

This is Papa Pea's sweater that I promised him for his birthday last year. Notice how far I've gotten. It was in the Interweave Knits WINTER 2006 issue. I remember seeing it and thinking, "Oh, I could do that in no time! It's not that hard!" Oh, those days of innocence. I've actually done a lot more to the sweater in the last few days. I've seamed up the shoulders and sides of the sweater. There is SOMETHING WRONG with the sleeves, however. I've ripped them out halfway, and for some reason, they are not working up in the way they are supposed to. I refuse to let this be a boulder in the road to a happy ending. I will march on.

Oh, Joy!

2007-03-19T14:20:00.000-04:00

Is that...a finished project??? Could it really be??? See it before your very eyes. I actually finished something I started. Unbelievable. The baby Yoda sweater (thanks to dogstealyarn) is knit in Mission Falls Poppy, with contrasting Cascade 220 in some kind of orange that I'm sure has a fancy name. Finishing this sweater left me with some thoughts:

1.) Why does seaming feel like it takes longer to do than the ENTIRE sweater?
2.) I hate weaving in the ends. I HATE IT. I HATE IT.
3.) I want to put this sweater on a human. I want to see it on a baby, or really, my baby. The most I can dois put it over my stomach (which really doesn't give me any idea of how it will look on Sammy, but does give me an idea of just how tiny he still is in my belly (despite the fact that I feel like a Mack truck).

Here is the orange trim if you can't see it in the large picture:

I love these two colors together. It makes me think of ice cream days, orange blossoms, and all sorts of things that make me smile. I'm still a little unsure about how my actual crocheting skills showed up on the sweater. It's been hard for me to figure out how to hold the yarn and get the right tension. As you might be able to tell, the edges are a little uneven. I'm giving it a few days before I decide whether to rip it out and re-do it.

I have to admit that crocheting has...intrigued me. I think I'm going to try doing more of this crochet thing. Granny squares, anyone?

Besides this significant accomplishment, I have other great news. Today was another great doctor's appointment outing. LIttle Sammy is growing and his heart beat was loud and clear on the heart beat monitor! It's amazing how much louder it gets every time I go in the see my doctor! Anyway, there I was sitting and having cold gel squirted on my belly. The doctor asked me if I had any questions. Immediately, my mind went to, "Can I go to the yarn shop? Can I go to the yarn shop? Can I see "The Namesake?" Can I go out to dinner?" The doctor looked at me, her eyes raised in anticipation.

Me: "Um, well, um...you know I've been feeling a lot better. And, well, um, I'm wondering if it might be okay if I maybe go out to see a movie, or go to a store provided that I'm sitting down most of the time?"
Doc: Go to a store and sit down? What kind of store is that?
Me: Well, my yarn store is very small and I could just sit and, you know, touch yarn and smell it, maybe buy some, without moving around too much. And they have comfy chairs I could maybe recline on, sort of."
Doc: I think that would be alright. You must be going crazy. But, here the de-
Me: Okay, great ! Thank you thank you! I promise, I won't push it!
Doc: You are NOT ALLOWED to go to more than one place that is close by. By this, I mean you go to dinner and then you come straight home and lie down. Is that clear?
Me: Yes! Absolutely. Of course.

So, I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming of all the places I want to visit. I'm dreaming of the yarn store (of course). I'm dreaming of nights out to dinner. I"m dreaming of my favorite cafe. I'm dreaming of places beyond my living room and the company of dogs.

On the way home, I kept dreaming and got home very excited. But, then, you know what? All I wanted to do was lay down. Going out can be very tiring. And my hips. My hips are being pulled out of their very sockets. But I'm still dreaming of possibilities.

Ebony and Ivory...live together in perfect harmony

2007-03-18T00:14:00.000-04:00

I can't believe I've gotten this far with the yoda baby sweater. This picture is not entirely accurate, actually. I've actually done more to the project (insert toothy, "I think I'm hot shit" smile here) I have one sleeve left to attach, and then I will seam up the sides and finish the roll neck. I'm planning on being done tomorrow. I'm very proud of myself because I actually went back to fix my mistakes instead of "pretending" that they did not exist. (Please tell me I'm not the only one that does this!). I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this sweater is so small. It's hard to imagine it on my multicultural babe.

Today was a day of cultures meeting at the crossroads. My friends and I celebrated St. Pat's day by munching on mostly Italian food, knitting, and crocheting. G. taught me to crochet -- a craft that always eluded me. I somehow just didn't get it. I mean, what am I supposed to do with just one stick?? What is my other hand supposed to do? All the crochet names also confused me. "Double chain stitch." "Half-double stitch." There seem to be so many TYPES of stitches. In knitting, there are two stitches -- knit and purl. SImple and to the point. I can live with that. Anyway, the knitters and crocheters in the group found common ground today. Most notably, it happened when we all realized that we shared some common terminology such as the famed YARN OVER. It's nice when you find that you have things in common with those that are so....different. See, we're not so different from each other after all. I think Paul and Michael were really onto something when they came up with their song. (The video with the oversized piano keys, I'm not so sure about, though.) I'm going to try crocheting an orange edging to the yoda sweater. It could look bad, but it doesn't have to stay on. We'll see.

Dashing through the snow

2007-03-16T19:01:00.002-04:00

I knew it was too good to last. Here's the view from my perch in what has been dubbed as the "St. Patrick's Day snowstorm." Yes, there's supposed to be a road in the middle over there. This is what happens when the town you live in does not believe in snow-plowing.

Snow-plowing DURING the snowstorm. I mean, isn't that kind of, um, important? Like James Stewart in "Rear Window," I have a perfect view of the activities on our little road. I have become the neighborhood snoop. I know when you walk your dog, I know when you don't pick up your dog's poop (you know who you are), and I know when the roads don't get plowed. I heard that there were 200 car accidents per hour today. I don't get it. Do snow-plowers call in sick during snow days? Does the town think that people just stay home when the roads are bad? Someone explain this to me. I was watching the news today and news anchors were "shocked" at the amount of snow and ice that are "covering every possible roadway, with no let-up." Didn't they listen to their own weather forecast? In the town I live, snow-plows tend to come out AFTER the storm is over. Maybe they do that so they don't get into an accident during the storm. As far as I know, it's every man for himself out here.

The nice thing about bedrest during snowstorms is that you don't have to go anywhere. So, I actually have no right to whine about snow-plows. I was perfectly cozy and comfy in my toasty house. I just had to share my opinion about these things. Today was a busy day. Busy has taken on a new meaning to me nowadays. For those of you ambulant humans, my main goal of the day will most likely seem...mundane. Not so. Not so. I woke up this morning with a flutter in my heart. After a healthy breakfast of cereal with yogurt, I took a slow, but determined walk to my front door, opened it, and reaching to my right, flipped open the mailbox. Ahhhh.... see the red envelope? I felt a rush of adrenaline. I felt at peace. The world felt...right. I picked up the mail, tossed aside the bills. Then, clutching the thin red envelope to my chest, I shut the door. My heart skipped a beat.

Who doesn't love netflix? I was netflix de-virginized last year and I haven't looked back since. What did we do before netflix??? I would go to the video store, choose a video, get that quickening in my breath of anticipation as I popped the video in. But then came the late fees, and, frankly, I was never satisfied. Netflix hits the spot. Everytime.

So, today was a big netflix day. Today was the end of Season 2 in Grey's Anatomy. Oh, I love this show. Why can't hospitals really be this fun? For those of you who watch Grey's Anatomy, you KNOW that the end of Season 2 was a big deal. So, really, it was a really big deal day for me. It's now the end of the day and I have some leftover questions and thoughts. Here they are:

1.) How can anyone still like Izzy after what she did?
2.) OMG, is Shepard going to leave his wife? Are him and Meredith going to finally have a relationship?
3.) Does this much sex really happen in hospitals?
4.) Being a doctor seems much for fun than what I do for a living.

S-T-R-E-T-C-H

2007-03-15T19:47:00.000-04:00

This will be a very short post.

Stretchmarks.
Isabella and Oliver models DO NOT have stretchmarks.
That's all I have to say.

Big fun day

2007-03-14T18:58:00.000-04:00

Weather forecast: 77 degrees, sunny. Perfect!
Today was a big, big day, folks. A very big day. You see, today, was the day for the long-awaited DOCTOR"S APPOINTMENT. Since the beginning of these bedrest days, I have approached doctor's appointments as though I were going out on my very first, first date. I spend the day before imagining what my outfit should be. Low-rise jeans? Designer half-panel dark rinse jeans that I got on sale at that cute, overpriced maternity boutique? What about tops? Yes, tops. Play my pregnancy like a chic European, you know, wearing a proud-to-show-my-belly top. Yes, I will be sexy pregnant mama, like those models in the Isabella and Oliver website. You've probably seen it. It's the website where all the pregnant ladies make you want to be pregnant all the time because they are all glow-y, voluptuous, and FRESH. Isabella and Oliver models never have maternity acne, or dry skin (at the same time), or gas. Or...hmmm....maybe I will be chic and exotique pregnant mama. I'll float along in a jewel-toned Indian tunic top, with my Moroccan-style flats, and chunky jewelry that will finish off the look. Oooh, and I'll wear a pashmina shawl, because I am sophisticated pregnant mama.

Doctor's apointments. I love them. I wish I could have one a day. You see, I don't even care about what appointment I'm going to, or what they will be doing to me. I think beyond the appointment, you see. A world of limitless possibilities. That's what I think. Here's a window into my mad mind on the day of: Maybe I can convince my darling sister-in-law (who provides my transportation) to go out for lunch afterwards. (After all, we all need to eat. And, anyways, I'll be sitting down so it's bedrest, just in a different location.) After lunch, what would stopping off at the knitting store for five minutes hurt? I could just sit in a chair and look at the yarn. It won't hurt, right? I walk around in the house to get things. This time, I'll just walk around, just in a different location.

Well, two out of three isn't so bad. We both got hungry and couldn't drive back without some sustenance. After a nice lunch, we got back in the car, rolled down the windows, and felt the WARM spring air. The weather was flip-flop weather! I was actually, literally hot! (Raised body temperature and all, you know.) I failed in my third goal of going to the knitting store. It went something like this:
Me: So, S, this is great weather isn't it?
S: Yeah, it's really nice.
Me: I feel great, too. I mean, I haven't felt any contractions in two weeks. No complications, too! I feel...great!
S: Wow, really? That's good!
Me: Yeah. (I think to myself that it's time to go in for the kill. Do it now.) So...ummm...howboutwegototheknittingshopthengohome?
S: NO. You did a lot of walking today. You need to go home.

Oh well. You can't win them all. In fact, it was a big, fun day. When we got home, S. and I sat out on my patio while I knitted. We talked about landscaping. The doggies had fun running around on the first warm day of the month. I can't wait until the next doctor's appointment.

How you can tell a first time mama-to-be

2007-03-14T04:44:00.000-04:00

I've been working industriously on my baby yoda sweater. This is the back. As I knit it up, I kept checking my gauge (I learned my lesson, knitting gods), making sure I was doing the sizing right. I kept thinking, "No, this has to be wrong. It can't be this small! This is the WHOLE BACK." Is a baby really this tiny?! I mean, it looks like a washcloth. Actually, I think a washcloth is bigger. Is my baby really this tiny? It's hard to believe. I keep looking at this piece of fabric all googly-eyed with wonder and slight confusion. I guess after making the super-mutant-baby yellow sweater, the baby yoda sweater looks, well, kind of miniature.

Thinking about debts (or, hey man, I owe you)

2007-03-13T13:45:00.000-04:00

Since last night, I've been thinking a lot about debts.

But first, a cultural lesson. Or, at least, this is how I learned about it. Back in the old country, debts extend to something beyond cash, or IOU notes, or getting someone coffee since they paid for your coffee last time, or doing someone a big favor because they did you a favor years ago. In fact, that's the least of it. Back in the land of palm trees, mangoes, Mafran ketchup, and sampaguitas, you are born with a debt of the soul to your parents for giving birth to you. You repay this debt for the rest of your life. No excuses. Yes, it's deep. Yes, it can make you feel guilty. Yes, you do things even if you don't want to do them. But it also makes you feel whole. It makes you feel that the universe is in its proper order because of this give and take (well, sometimes it's more give but that's for another time...) And then, as you grow older, other folks in your life -- friends, family, sometimes dogs -- also begin to owe this debt to you, just as you also owe them for the many graces they have heaped upon you. No one ever forgets this, the debt never runs out. People follow the rules of the debt. Parents take care of their children, people stay in their role. Somehow, this keeps everyone happy (sort of). And so it builds upon itself and the palm trees are happy, the mangoes continue to taste luscious and velvety, the Mafran ketchup never runs out, and the sampaguitas continue to smell sweet and beautiful. When this doesn't happen, hmmm, well, let's just try to not think about that right now.

Since Sammy Pea decided to be on bedrest, the peapod home and everyone in it have all been turned upside down. Dora Pea and Milo Pea have been very confused about why Mama Pea is with them all the time. Milo Pea, especially, has had a difficult time and seems to have forgotten his manners. Dora Pea has become very protective of Mama Pea's belly. Papa Pea has been working very hard to make sure all is well in the peapod. Mama Pea can tell Papa Pea is very tired. And Mama Pea...well, she's been busy playing around with a blog while keeping her feet up, drinking a gallon of water a day, and trying very hard not to do TOO MUCH internet shopping. (She recently discovered the internet equivalent of window shopping, which is registering for baby gear. So far, this has kept her satiated.)

Last night, as I said before, I was thinking about debts. I couldn't fall asleep. My stomach felt all warm and acidic. It started to dawn on me why my OB told me that I could take antacids during my pregnancy even though, at the point she said this, I was not experiencing any stomach problems. Ah, antacids. Balm of life. Stool softeners. Better than sliced bread. Anyway, I digress.

This debt of the soul, this "utang na loob" (go find yourself a Filipino if you don't know how to say this), is something I have been feeling more and more since I started on bedrest. I feel it towards all of you (well, all of you that I know, anyway. If you are reading this and we have never met, then I don't owe you anything. In fact, maybe you owe me because I am providing you with entertainment and a cultural comptetency lesson). Friends and family, I have utang na loob towards you for all the care, love, and support you have shared with me and the Peas. Thank you from the bottom of my soul.

Oh, by the way, the yarn above is a third of all the yarn I have. I'm supposed to do something with all of this stuff before any more projects get under way. Do you think this will happen? And yes, red is one of my favorite colors. What do you think the other one is?

Deep dish thoughts

2007-03-12T19:38:00.001-04:00

A realization came to me today. Third trimester is around the corner. How is this possible? Didn't I JUST find out I was pregnant??? Now, for some knitters, three months may seem like an eternity and plenty o'time to finish your baby projects. For a knitter like me, it is time to go on overdrive. You see, I'm not a knitting "closer." I can't close the deal, folks. Around my house are many knitting carcasses, multiple pieces that need to "just be finished." But do they? Um, what do you think? I have the Einstein Coat waiting for me since 2003. The yellow sweater is ALMOST THERE. It needs buttons. I think I can do that. I don't want to talk about how I didn't get gauge and that's why it's not a baby sweater, but instead, a CHILD'S sweater. The strips are waiting to be finished into a sampler cotton blanket for the nursery. Three more strips to go...And, oh yes, I just started a baby yoda sweater in red. This time, I got gauge and it should work out. I swear I'll finish all these things. I swear.

Things I ponder now that I have time on my hands:
1.) What is Dora thinking when she's sitting and facing the wall, staring at it with an intensity that is hard to replicate?
2.) What is Milo thinking when he rams his head over and over into an unsuspecting body pillow?
3.) What am I going to blog about today?
4.) Is it possible to ever get sick of the smell of yarn?
5.) What will Sammy be like when I meet him?
6.) Will I really be able to wash all those cloth diapers that I plan to use AND keep my sanity?
7.) Why does daycare cost so much and why aren't I more upset about forking over so much money when it's hard for me to pay an extra $2.00 for a fish entree at a restaurant?

Peapod launch

2007-03-12T12:15:00.000-04:00

Welcome to the peapod chronicles! These are my three little peas, Dora (big ears), Milo (stick-figure dog), and the "baby" sweater is for little Sammy, still in my belly (more on why you need to REALLY check gauge when you knit in order to avoid making a baby sweater that is big enough for a 10 year old). Sammy is the first little human peapod in this family and it has been quite a ride with him, so far. He is 26 weeks old, and counting. Sammy decided that, at 24 weeks, he wanted to spend more time at home, resting and relaxing. Somehow, he managed to convince my doctor that I needed to be on moderate bedrest, and now, here we are, at home.

Bedrest. It sounds so much better in theory. If you look hard at the word, it's really quite a nice word. "Bed." Bed is good. It is soft, warm, lovely in many ways. "Rest." Who doesn't like to rest? Rest is also associated with "relax," "de-stress," "going to that special, safe place where you feel all pampered and cared for." Hm. Right. Bedrest can also mean "boredom," "watching television shows you never knew existed" (i.e., do I really need to know why certain housewives in Orange County feel the need to get breast enlargements? I didn't think so until now), and missing the fresh spring air that seems to be fighting its way through the winter chill. However, bedrest can ALSO mean "lots of time to knit," "thinking about Sammy whenever I want and not feeling like I'm slacking off at work," and "not doing housework." Not so bad, after all. I am still trying to figure out what "moderate" means. I'm not a very moderate person, so it has been very difficult to figure this word out. If anyone knows what it really means, please let me know.